Nurse Hot-as-Hale has had enough
by yogini
Summary: "Can't people just stop being so fucking clumsy all the time?" Derek muttered angrily and by "people" he meant Stiles Stilinski, Beacon Hills own walking, very much talking and overly accident-prone disaster of a dispatcher who just had, to no one's great surprise, managed to get himself into trouble. Again.


I don't own Teen Wolf or any of the characters in the series, I'm just borrowing them from their respective owners to play with a little and I promise to give them back when I'm done. No copyright infringement is intended and I don't make any money from writing fanfiction.

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 **Nurse Hot-as-Hale has had enough**

"Can't people just stop being so fucking _clumsy_ all the time?" Derek muttered angrily as he was hurriedly called to a room and forced to abandon his almost un-eaten lunch on the table, only three bites taken. By "people" he meant Stiles Stilinski, Beacon Hills own walking, very much talking and overly accident-prone disaster of a dispatcher who just had, to no one's great surprise, managed to get himself into trouble. Again.

"You should feel honoured, Derek, he asked specifically for you" Melissa smiled mischievously and Derek growled at her. "No, seriously, he did. Said you're the only one he feels safe to be with around needles."

"I bet he did" Derek answered tightly. Since he'd returned from New York and started working at the Beacon Hills hospital the word had somehow spread like wildfire across the town that a male, hot nurse had started working in the ER. Suddenly female patients of all ages had come flooding through the doors, usually with minor injuries that could very well have been treated by the local GP and with major amounts of meticulously applied makeup. Derek didn't really believe that they'd all been getting ready for a party just seconds before unfortunately getting injured and he certainly didn't go to medical school for years to treat people with wounds so small that it would have sufficed for them to put on a band aid at home. He wanted to make a difference, to help people like he'd been helped when his life fell apart all those years ago when the fire happened, and he was sick of people trying to get into his pants while he was trying to do his job. Not only was that disrespectful towards him, but also towards all the other patients who actually needed his help. Melissa was well aware of the problem and her gaze softened when she saw his tense posture.

"Stiles isn't like that, you know" she assured him, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder and got a quick, nearly-there smile in return. "I've known him all his life and he'd never act so selfishly and take time away from other patients like that. Go on, I'll put your lasagne back in the fridge for you, and make sure no one steals it."

"Thank you, Mrs McCall" Derek said as he left and faintly heard her call out: "I've told you a hundred times to call me Melissa!" as he turned around the corner.

Maybe Stiles really was an exception, and maybe he really didn't have any concealed motives behind landing himself in the ER on average once a week, always specifically asking for Derek, but he found it really hard to believe despite Mrs McCall's assurances. Derek had an exceptionally bad relationship history and didn't trust people easily. And if Stiles really was an exception then he was without doubt the clumsiest person Derek had ever met which was a nuisance in itself. Between taking care of all his flirting, fake patients and Stiles with all his various injures that he'd gotten god knows how, Derek would really love to have the time to eat something, maybe have a small break or, if he was really lucky, have the time to go to the bathroom and for five glorious minutes lock himself into a stall all alone. Not ducking everything from grandmothers pinching his cheek to teenagers pinching his ass and on top of that mopping up the remains of whatever trouble Stile had managed to land himself in this time. Safe to say he wasn't in a very good mood when he arrived to the exam room where Stiles waited.

"What now?" he barked out without preamble when he entered the room and Stiles, seemingly deep in thought, jumped high where he sat on the exam table.

"Whoa, dude, give a man some warning!" he exclaimed, suddenly flailing and sending a spatter of blood all over the floor as he lost the grip of the towel that was wrapped tightly around his arm. "You should wear a bell or something."

"Or something" Derek deadpanned and caught the man's waving arm, stilling it and pressing the towel firmly against the wound once more. "How did this happen?"

"I tried to sort out the photocopier and opened it up" Stiles started to explain, blushing slightly. "Something was stuck in there so I put my whole arm in to fix it but I got stuck, and when I tried to pull back I must've scratched against something sharp?" He smiled sheepishly and Derek supressed the urge to roll his eyes because apparently that was considered bad bedside manners. At least that's what Melissa said when she scolded him about it last time.

"Stiles, you must be the sole member of the police force getting injured on a daily basis and you're working from _behind a desk_." Stiles opened and closed his mouth a few times to protest and then he sighed and slumped where he sat.

"Nope, I've got nothing." Derek rolled the cart of supplies closer and unwrapped the towel to take a closer look at the wound.

"Good news" Derek announced after examining the injury. "You don't need stitches on this, I'm just going bandage it for you, so no needles for you today."

"Yay!" Stiles fist pumped in victory but with the wrong arm, sending another splatter of blood through the air. "Uh, sorry?" he added weakly when Derek glowered at him. The glower might have stopped Stiles from moving around anymore but unfortunately it didn't make him sit quietly. During the short period of time that it took Derek to clean and dress the wound he learned more than he'd ever wanted to know about different superhero movies, complete with an analysis on how they differed from the various comic books that they were based on.

"There" he grunted as soon as he'd finished, snapping off his gloves and throwing them in the bin. "Now get out of here."

"Really, Derek, where are your bedside manners?" Stiles asked as he slid down from the exam table. "Aren't you even going to offer to kiss it better?" Stiles winked and Derek lost it.

"Get out!" he growled, only barely stopping himself from shoving the other man through the door. "Get the fuck out!"

"Come on, dude, it was only a joke. Maybe a bad one but…" Stiles said defensively, clearly taken aback by the outburst but Derek wasn't stopping any time soon.

"Don't you dare! You're just like everyone else, coming in here, hoping to get lucky. It's fucking disgusting!"

"But I didn't…"

"Oh, come on" Derek scoffed. "Always asking for me to treat you because you're scared of needles? Really, Stiles?"

"But it's true" Stiles pleaded. "Some of the others never listen when I tell them that I'm scared of needles, like they think that I should just suck it up because I'm an adult and not supposed to. But you always take your time and never rush me." That was true. Derek might roll his eyes at Stiles' weird tales of how exactly he'd managed to get injured but he wasn't cruel enough to do that when he could clearly see how afraid Stiles was of needles. That's why he worked slowly and patiently, always telling Stiles what he was going to do next so that the other man felt safe. That time when Stiles had spied on his neighbour and gotten bit by his dog ("I'm telling you, I was doing society a favour. That man clearly has something to hide!") and had to get a tetanus shot had been particularly bad. Derek remembered stepping in and taking over after Stiles looked like he was close to fainting, sending a sour-looking Isabelle on her way. Ten minutes later Stiles had calmed down, gotten his shot and was on his way and all Derek had done was to let Stiles set the pace instead of trying to force him. Still, no matter how sincere Stiles may seem Derek wasn't prepared to believe him, not when he'd made a comment like that.

"You think I haven't heard what they call me? Hot-as-Hale, Nurse McNaughty? I'm here to help people for fuck's sake, not to get drooled over."

"That's not at all what I'm doing" Stiles insisted. "It's not right how people treat you, Melissa told me that..."

"She told you?" Derek interrupted, seething. "She had no right to…"

"Whoa," Stiles cut him off, "she's my best friend's mum, alright? We talk. And she was concerned about you, and about the security of the patients, as one of her best nurses suddenly was on band aid duty for half of the female population of Beacon Hills. And I get it, I do. You have a degree, a profession, you're not just here to be someone's eye candy. I'm sorry for what I said, it was clumsy, but I swear I didn't mean it like that."

"So you're not doing this on purpose, coming here, to flirt?" Derek was still suspicious, arms crossed over his front.

"No! I would never!" Stiles protested. "How could I, seeing the line of people in the waiting room needing help? And this is your place of work and I respect that. I really do get injured this often" Stiles said, embarrassed now. "I'm pretty clumsy sometimes."

"Try _always_ " Derek muttered, now finally convinced that Stiles was being honest with him, and got an elbow to the gut for his troubles, immediately followed by a loud "ow!" He snickered at Stiles who cradled his injured arm with a look of utmost indignation.

"You brought that on yourself" he pointed out and Stiles full out pouted at him.

"You can't laugh at your patients!" he huffed testily, crossing his arms and pushing his bottom lip out even further, and Derek was not endeared at the sight, not at all.

"Sure I can" he answered easily. "It's just considered a bit impolite." After Stiles had stomped off, mostly for show, Derek cleared away the supplies that he'd used and headed back to have a second go at that lasagne, wondering what kind of incident that would bring Stiles back to the hospital the next time.

(Two days later Derek got the answer to that question. Stiles, being late for work, had opted out of tying his shoelaces to save time and fallen down the granite stairs in front of his apartment building. After vehemently insisting that he'd suffered nothing more serious than a bump on the head he suddenly vomited all over Derek's shoes and then sheepishly allowed himself to be examined for a possible concussion.)


End file.
